


all the time in the world

by pumpkinpaperweight



Series: mythical creatures au [1]
Category: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, demon! hester, siren! tedros, some implications of violence, some language, vampire! agatha, witch! anadil and dot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24285679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinpaperweight/pseuds/pumpkinpaperweight
Summary: Agatha had thought she was doing rather well at this whole "modern world" business until now.“Let me guess,” The albino girl behind the counter says dryly, shooting an unimpressed look at the money Agatha is holding out to her. “Recently surfaced immortal?”Agatha hesitates. Sophie has told her this shop is the hub for all non-humans in the area, but to be identified so quickly--“Er. Yes. I suppose. Is this not a sufficient amount of money?”“Shillings aren’t legal tender anymore.”--by an immortal, ageless vampire's standards, eighty years is not a long time. But it seems to Agatha that 2019 is rather different from 1939. woken by the millennium celebrations in 2000, she's skulked in her house for 19 years, trying to pluck up the courage to come down and explore the modern world.now she's really wishing she hadn't.especially when she stumbles across her oldest... ah, *friend*, trapped in an aquarium.
Relationships: Agatha/Tedros (The School for Good and Evil)
Series: mythical creatures au [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815847
Comments: 26
Kudos: 94
Collections: SGE Fandom Big Bang





	all the time in the world

Agatha had thought she was doing rather well at this whole  _ modern world  _ business until now.

“Let me guess,” The albino girl behind the counter says dryly, shooting an unimpressed look at the money Agatha is holding out to her. “Recently surfaced immortal?”

Agatha hesitates. Sophie has told her this shop is the hub for all non-humans in the area, but to be identified so quickly--

“Er. Yes. I suppose. Is this not a sufficient amount of money?”

“Shillings aren’t legal tender anymore.” says the girl flatly. Her name-tag says  _ Anadil. _ “Also, you’re paying  _ way  _ too much.”

“Ah.” Agatha draws back, embarrassed. This is the first time she’s attempted to buy anything. “Um--”   
“Oh, just hand it over, we have places we can exchange it.”

“Oh.” Agatha hands it over, bewildered. “I apologise for the inconvenience.”

“Whatever. We’ll bring your stuff, go and sit down.”

“Of course, I thank you--”

Agatha backs away from the counter, suddenly feeling unsure of herself. Eighty years is not a long time, by her standards, but it seems she has missed rather a lot whilst she was asleep. Sophie warned her of it, but she had not really listened-- until now.

The currency has changed,  _ everything  _ seems to have plastic wrapping nowadays, everybody has funny rectangles that show pictures, and motion pictures are now in colour. There are probably a million other things she is yet to understand, as well.

Rather overwhelmed, she takes a seat in the corner, and tries to find something that she recognises. She has been doing this every time she encounters something new this past week.  _ ( _ She has been doing it  _ a lot.)  _

She tugs at her collar nervously, casting an eye around the shop. One of the baristas has lots of tattoos. Agatha has tattoos too, though hers are from the 1920s and not nearly as colourful. There is an ogre sat in the back corner. She once met an ogre, in 1654. There is a pixie, just leaving. She has never had good experiences with pixies. And...

No, that is it. Everything else seems to be a sleeker, shinier version of things she knew. Even the drinks menu is longer. She has never heard of a frappuccino. 

Agatha finds herself quickly transfixed by the screen above the counter. She has never seen such a high quality picture in her life, and she cannot see a projector, either. It appears to be a news programme. How funny. Do they not use radios anymore--?

She is jerked out of her trance by her coffee and cake being slammed down in front of her.

“Never seen you around here before.” says her server, the tattooed barista she had noticed earlier. Now she has turned around, Agatha can see she had curled horns, like a goat.

“I have never been here before.” says Agatha shortly. She does not get the impression this girl likes her, and she is sensing something--

She catches sight of her clawed hands and winces. A demon. She has never met a demon before, but she thought they were supposed to get along with vampires, similar creatures that they are--

“And you said you’re immortal?”

“I am eternal, yes.”

“That’s not what I asked, sweetheart.”

Agatha eyes her coolly. 

“Do you interrogate all your customers like this?”

“Only the ones who I think have interesting scars.”

Agatha knows where she is looking.

She curses her bad habit of pulling her collar. 

“I am not here to hunt, if that is what you want to know.” she says shortly. “I do not prey on other non-humans. For the most part, their blood is disgusting.”

The barista looks at her, suddenly seeming less hostile. Her name-tag says  _ Hester.  _

“Well,” she says. “That’s alright, then.”

“Oh, it is?”

“S’pose so. Provided you’re only here for coffee and not to kill our customers.”

She pulls out a chair and sits down opposite her, eyeing her with interest. 

“What’s your name?”

“Agatha.” Agatha tells her, tentatively starting to wonder if she might be able to make friends with this  _ Hester-- _

“ _ Agatha _ .” snorts Hester. “Typical vampire name if I ever heard one. When were you born? 1800s? 1700s?”

“It is rude to ask.” frowns Agatha. Hester raises an eyebrow.

“A Victorian if I ever saw one.”

Agatha stares, affronted.

“The  _ Victorians _ ?  _ No.  _ Those imperialist prudes were practically  _ yesterday--” _

“Fine, tell me this. Who was King when you were born?”

“There was no established King of  _ all  _ England. I was born under a Welsh chief who is highly romanticised by people today, on the 13th of April, 451. I believe you now call him Arthur--” 

Hester chokes on her coffee.

“ _ King  _ Arthur?” she splutters, wiping her mouth and exposing a row of too-sharp teeth.

“Yes, him.” 

“You’re _ ancient.”  _ says Hester incredulously. “You’re over a thousand years old!”

“I cannot see that  _ you  _ can be much younger.” says Agatha, offended.

“I wasn’t in the mortal realm until last year, and nobody counts down  _ there _ .” dismisses Hester. “Probably. But you’re telling me that you’ve been wandering around for one thousand, six hundred  _ years?” _

“One thousand, six hundred and fifty eight, to be precise.” Agatha perks up. “I have seen many interesting things.”

“And had time to concoct lots of phony tales about being present for every major historical event, yeah.” scoffs Hester, “Let me guess, you witnessed the Battle of Hastings?”

“No.” says Agatha. “I was in Italy.”

Hester sighs. 

“Well then, what  _ have  _ you done?”

“I am not going to tell you anything if you are going to disbelieve it all.” 

Hester holds her hands up mockingly.

“I’ll take it all at your word.”

Agatha stares suspiciously at her. She is getting the impression that Hester thinks she is one of  _ those  _ ancients-- slightly loopy from years of being unable to keep up with progress. But Agatha has been very diligent at keeping up with progress. She let her speech and writing progress out of Old and Middle English as everyone else’s did, and made sure she was up to date with popular culture and fashion and practice wherever she went. Her recent nap had only taken her from 1939 to 2000, which was not  _ that  _ long--

“Tell me your  _ three  _ most interesting exploits.” says Hester. “How about that?”

The other two baristas-- Anadil and a short, chubby, sweet-faced girl-- have started to edge closer, presumably to listen. Both witches, obviously. Sigils and wards are drawn all over their arms, and Agatha can see a rat peeking out of Anadil’s top pocket. 

Agatha sits up.

“Very well. I was a pirate during the Golden Age of Piracy.”

Hester raises her eyebrows.

“You get caught?”

“Eventually, after about twenty years. I faked my own death, returned to mainland England and started seducing people’s wives and duelling their husbands. I became very skilled at faking my own death, actually.”

“I can respect that.” muses Hester. “How?”

“Usually, I flung myself into the sea.” says Agatha. “I cannot drown, and I have many friends among seafolk who help me.”

“...right. And the third?”

“I was a gangster and bootlegger during the Prohibition in America. I went over specifically for it, because I thought it looked amusing.”

“ _ Amusing?” _

Agatha ignores Hester’s protest. She is a demon, who is she to lecture her about morals?

“Yes, and I--”

“Prove it.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Prove it.” repeats Hester, eyes glimmering with interest. “I’m intrigued, but I’m not convinced you’re not just spinning us loads of crap to make yourself look cool. You’ve only just surfaced, we know nothing about you, so we can’t be sure you’re not trying to win our trust for some evil plot. We like to have some background for our regulars, so we can be sure of their intentions. You know how it is.”

Agatha stares at her, struggling to keep up with her way of talking. 

“...I returned to the modern world in 2000. The celebrations woke me up. However, this is the first time I have come into the city, since I’ve been organising my affairs--”

“That’s not what I asked, love.” interrupts Hester. “ _ Prove _ it.”

“I… do not understand.” says Agatha, bewildered. “I do not have anything with me that can prove it.” she pauses. “I have tattoos from the 1920s.”

Hester looks over her shoulder at Anadil, and they exchange a knowing look. Feeling as if it is at her expense, Agatha looks unhappily down at her food, which she no longer wants.

“My coat is from 1903.” she says hopefully. 

“Mm.” Hester stands and offers her a fanged smile. “Well, if you feel like bringing any proof--”

“I am not  _ lying.”  _ says Agatha, offended. Hester holds up her hands, exposing black veins on the inside of her wrists.

“Not saying you are. Just natural suspicion, right?”

Agatha looks away bad-temperedly as Hester retreats. She has never been treated so before. It pains her to admit it, but she had become used to being respected, so the suspicion and doubt these people are treating her with is an unwelcome and rather hurtful surprise. She had come here with the hope she might be able to make some friends who would help her with the modern world. Her only  _ other _ friends-- the Seelie Queen and the Lord of the Undersea-- are both infamous for luring and murdering humans, and out of them, Agatha has always had the best grasp of the human world. Sophie had given her some vague updates about various wars, given her some more up-to-date clothes and immediately ditched her in the middle of the city, and she is yet to reunite with Tedros. But this café is on the harbour, and so, she’s probably already been spotted. It won’t be long before he knows of her return; gossip spreads incredibly fast in the Undersea. Even if he is somewhere far-flung like the Dardanelles, the Sea of Japan or the Gulf of Alaska, news will get to him in less than 24 hours. Perhaps she will go and wait for him tonight--

“-- _ clearly confused--”  _ Hester is whispering to Anadil. “ _ You know what these immortals are like, they go loopy once they’ve been around on Earth for three hundred years, let alone a thousand. It’s a miracle we can understand her, and she’s not speaking Shakespearean English or something.” _

Clearly she has not done her research on the enhanced senses of the undead.

Agatha drains the rest of her coffee and stands up abruptly, burning with humiliation and disappointment. She does not need to prove anything to these people.

However, it seems she does need to look elsewhere for friends--

Someone tugs her sleeve, and Agatha looks down to see the short barista--  _ Dot--  _ holding some shiny pieces of paper out to her. 

“Here,” she says. “These are the banknotes nowadays! Just so you have some, and know what it looks like. The system has decimalised, now, and it’s 100 pennies to a pound.”

“You do not need to give me money.” says Agatha. 

“Don’t be silly! We operate a programme that helps immortals reintegrate into modern society, we do it for lots of people. If you like, I’ll give you a leaflet, we do meetings on Wednesdays at midnight for nocturnal people like you…” she looks Agatha up and down, taking in the long coat, broad-brimmed hat, black gloves and boots. “...though it looks like you’re happy being out in the daylight.”

“I am not  _ happy _ .” says Agatha thinly. “I dislike the sunlight and prolonged exposure can be painful, but I function, yes.”

“...um. Okay. But please take the money!”

Agatha looks at her earnest little face and purses her lips. She cannot deny it would be useful to have some. 

“...Thank you.” She takes them without looking and shoves them in her pocket. “I will be leaving now.”

“Come again!” says Dot brightly as she makes for the door. “We’re open all the time, Hester doesn’t need to sleep!”

“How convenient.” says Agatha, and slams the door behind her. 

She can tell their eyes are tracking her through the window as she stalks away.

* * *

She wanders aimlessly for a few hours, ignoring the strange glances she gets. It is not surprising. She is dressed all in black, six feet tall, freakishly pale, and has scars and nicks around her mouth where she forgets about her fangs and bites her lip (a terrible human habit she will never manage to conquer). It is also far too hot to be wearing all black, let alone a woollen trench coat, hat and gloves. She probably looks like a motion picture villain from the 1930s. But temperature does not affect her, only sunlight, so she does not care. She would prefer to look odd than to be woozy and wake up with irritated, itchy skin for a week. 

She passes some shops she knows, but far more she doesn’t, and finds herself frequently stopping to stare at shiny signs and sleek metal objects she can’t put a name to. It’s getting to dusk, now, and she is just beginning to think that she should go home and shed her coat and hat before going to the docks, when she sees a sign on the side of the local aquarium;

**_SEE OUR MYSTERIOUS MERMAID!_ **

Agatha snorts. It is not unusual for these aquariums to claim such things. They have been doing so for a very long time. However, it is _very_ unusual for it to be legitimate. Generally, it is a human actress with a faux tail who can hold her breath for a very long time. Agatha disapproves. They do not even bother to give her spiked ears or slit-pupiled eyes, like _proper_ mermaids, and they always make them friendly. All the mermaids _she_ has met have had a healthy distaste for young children. 

Still, she is lonely and a little sad, and has some modern money, now, so she decides she ought to cheer herself up by sitting at the back and silently criticising this so-called  _ mermaid.  _

The lady at the desk gives her a funny look as she pays, and an even funnier one when she decides she would also like to purchase  _ one of these fabric sea otter imitations, if I may? _ They are very sweet, nowadays. Very impressive. All the stuffed toys she remembers from the 1920s and 30s were, frankly, ghastly.

She wanders the halls with her sea otter purchase, following the glowing signs and looking at fish. Some of the bigger animals, such as the turtles and otters, do not seem impressed to see her, which is very sensible. She does not enjoy the blood of sea-dwellers-- in fact, it is foul, which she had found out the hard way-- but it is consumable, in dire straits. 

She ought to tell Tedros about this place, when she sees him. He will be very indignant. 

And yet, the more she considers him, the more she cannot shake a persistent worry at the back of her mind. 

It has been eighty years since they last saw one another. It’s highly possible he will have gotten bored and forgotten about her. The folk of the Undersea are very fickle, and she has always been impressed that he remained interested in her for so long. The last time she had seen him, it had been in New York, 1924, and she had arrived just in time to stop him killing her drink suppliers. 

He had been following their route, fascinated by the funny underwater canisters they were using to transport the bootleg alcohol, and her suppliers, not believing what they were seeing, had tried to grab him. 

Once Agatha had finished fishing them out of the water and convinced them they were  _ actually lookin’ at a shark, I promise, fellas. You’re just real bent, what the fuck did I tell you about samplin’ the moonshine, huh? Get outta here, you stupid bastards--  _ she’d looked down at Tedros, trying not to laugh. He’d peered sheepishly up at her, holding one of their hats.

“Food?”

“ _ No,  _ Tedros.”

She’d then proceeded to spend at least half an hour explaining why to him, then another hour letting him update her on Undersea gossip in his odd, singsong way. She’d not seen him since. 

It is obvious when she reaches the correct room, because there is a huge crowd outside. She is herded into line with a group--  _ “last group of the day for the mermaid!” _ \-- and then hustled through into a room with a huge tank. Agatha grits her teeth. She doesn’t do well with lots of humans at once. 

Trying to ignore the smell of human blood and all the exposed jugulars, she slips through the throng, wondering what this one will look like--

She catches sight of the end of a tail drifting beside a little boy’s head and recoils, horrified.

Not an impersonator at all. 

_ Real.  _

She was a pirate for twenty years-- she knows what legitimate sea-folk look like. And the scales are sharp and closely-packed enough to mean there is no mistaking it. 

She moves closer, shocked. Poor soul. It is debatable enough to keep normal fish and sea creatures in tanks, but sea-folk…

Another fin comes into view. Double fins. That means...

Agatha stops. 

Not even a mermaid. 

_ A siren.  _

How did they catch a siren _?  _

Mermaids were temperamental enough as it was-- they had sharp teeth, and were far stronger than most people thought. They would attack if provoked, and kill if they felt threatened. But sirens attacked even when unprovoked. They were malevolent spirits that _existed_ to lure and kill, and their glamours were strong enough to drive humans mad. They could rip out hearts and throats on a whim.

No wonder there was no other fish in the tank. Sirens might have liked humans best, but they would sing for pretty much anything that came across their path…

So what about the staff here?

Agatha glances up. Sure enough, the top of the tank is sealed. No sound can escape, and the siren cannot surface. They must have learned their lesson rather quickly.

Agatha finds herself at the edge of the group as the tour guide starts talking. She can see most of the poor thing’s form, coiled right in a dark spot at the edge of the tank, facing away.  _ Old,  _ as well. The immense length of the tail and the deep, dark sheen of the scales indicates one of the oldest sirens she has ever seen.

The guide is talking;

“We found him in the harbour, right here, two months ago! We tranquilised him, brought him to safety and transported him here to be studied by scientists--”

Agatha’s lip curls derisively.  _ Kidnapped,  _ more like.

“--he’s a little shy, and we’ve yet to have him respond calmly to any visitors or scientists...”

Agatha takes that to mean that he has attempted to murder anyone who’s tried to lay a hand on him. She gazes sadly at him, wondering if she ought to try and help--

Something catches her eye.

On the part of his neck in the light, two white scars are perfect circles, right over his jugular.

Agatha freezes.

No vampire preys on seafolk-- they’re too aggressive, and their blood is disgusting. Only someone recently-turned, angry, desperate, or inexperienced would try. 

Or someone both aggressive  _ and  _ desperate.

* * *

_ There is someone here. _

_ Even without her enhanced senses, Agatha can tell. There is a splashing around the starboard side, which has been going on for about two hours now. She had resolved to ignore it, assuming it was a curious seal or something like that… _

_ But that had been before the singing started. _

_ Agatha knows, instantly, what it is.  _

_ Siren song. She has heard them before, on the coast of Wales. They had not enchanted her then, and they would not now, but as for her crew-- _

_ Scowling, she bashes her way out of her quarters and heads up onto the main deck. She doesn’t want to find a new crew just because some siren decided she was hungry. _

_ As she expected, she finds her crew in a gaggle, hanging over the side of the ship. Only Callis, as the other vampire, is unaffected, leaning on the mast and smoking. _

_ “Siren.” she says. “Ancient beast. Perhaps even older than I.” _

_ Agatha grinds her teeth. Older means more powerful.  _

_ Looking at her crew, she can see their cartographer, Joseph is leaning furthest over the rail. She  _ **_needs_ ** _ Joseph and his maps.  _

_ Agatha turns to Callis, rolling up her sleeves.  _

_ “I am going down to put a stop to it. Have you ever tried?”  _

_ Callis shakes her head. _

_ “No. I do not think they like our kind, much, but they cannot kill us or enchant us. They do not pose much of a threat. Just push the creature back into the sea, it may break the enchantment.” _

_ Agatha licks her fangs.  _

_ “I was thinking that I was hungry, actually.” _

_ She turns and vaults the side of the ship, landing nimbly on the rocks below. She’s always enjoyed the catlike agility being undead has given her-- she would have killed herself jumping this far as a human. _

_ She looks up and immediately spots the culprit.  _

_ Oh. A male, it seems. Callis is right, he is immense-- there’s at least six feet of tail visible, and she is sure there’s at least another four or five or even six trailing in the black water behind him. He is lying on his stomach on the rock, singing to her dumbstruck crew. Agatha is not sure what she was expecting, but it is not this-- blue-tinted skin with irregular scaled patches, slashes of gills in his throat. His eyes are overly large and his pupils are vertical slits, and she is sure she can see the flicker of a second eyelid, sliding back and forth. The lines of his face are overly harsh and she can see, as he opens his mouth, that his teeth are jagged and too closely packed. He scrapes his clawed, webbed hands along the rocks and laughs as he sings-- willing her crew to come to him. Undeniably, his song is beautiful, but as Agatha approaches him, frowning, she has no temptation to fling herself into his arms. She does not see what is so alluring about him-- _

_ Then he turns his head towards, pushing blond hair tangled with seaweed from his face, and Agatha catches a brief flash of a chiselled face and perfect lips. It only lasts a second, but it is long enough for her to understand-- he is using a glamour.  _

_ He is still singing, but he is looking at her, now, smiling. He thinks that she has come to him because he has enchanted her, not because she’s going to put her boot on his chest and drink his blood. Agatha eyes him, interested. It’s as if his two appearances are overlaid, one on top of the other-- Agatha can see both, given his glamour does not work properly on her. _

_ He laughs and stretches a clawed hand out to her.  _

_ Agatha laughs too, and reaches for him-- _

_ He notices how sharp her teeth are slightly too late. _

_ Her crew are snapped out of their trance by their captain and their enchanter fighting.  _

_ The siren is shrieking and thrashing, trying to throw her off, as Agatha bashes his head down into the rocks and swallows her first mouthful of his blood, hazy with triumph at getting to feed again after so long. _

_ As such, it takes her several swallows before she realises how disgusting it is. _

_ She snarls and rears back, spitting blood, and just avoids a swipe from the furiously wailing siren. It is  _ **_foul--_ ** _ cold and bitter and not at all like human blood. _

_ He throws her off and shoves her across the rocks, Agatha grabs him by the hair as she falls, yanking him over backwards-- and they both end up in the sea. _

_ Immediately, he seizes her  _ _ and dives for the seafloor, mouth open in a furious snarl. Agatha laughs-- she knows what he is trying to do. He wants to drown her, so he can take out her heart and eat it. Unfortunately, it is not possible for her to drown, and he would probably find her heart just as disagreeable as she found his blood. And even if he did take her heart, it would not make much difference. He would need to behead her as well, and sirens never did, because they didn’t care. _

_ He stares furiously at her, confused as to why she is not panicking.  _

_ Agatha laughs again and presses her face to his. _

**_“I am already dead.”_ ** _ she says. _

_ She had not really been expecting him to understand her, but clearly he does, because he drifts to a stop. He looks surprised for a minute, squinting at her and digging his fingers into her neck, looking for a pulse. He clearly finds none, and he floats back a little, considering. _

_ Then, tentatively, he puts his fingers to his mouth in a clear imitation of fangs. _

_ Agatha sighs and opens her mouth to display that, yes, she is a vampire.  _

_ She is anticipating aggression, or fear, or confusion.  _

_ Not for them to suddenly be above the water again. _

_ Agatha pushes her fringe back and finds him floating in front of her, making chattering sounds at her, pointing furiously at his neck, which is already healing. _

_ “I am sorry.” says Agatha, treading water. “But your blood is foul, so I will not do it again.” _

_ More chattering. _

_ “I cannot understand you.” _

_ He frowns.  _

_ Then he opens his mouth again-- _

_ “ _ **_All_ ** _ vampires are pirates captains?”  _

_ Agatha blinks.  _

_ “You can speak mortal languages?” _

_ “Understand. Speak badly.”  _

_ It is true that his pronunciation is terrible, and he has a very strong accent, but he is just about understandable. _

_ He points at the ship. “All vampires are captains?” _

_ Agatha shakes her head, trying not to laugh. _

_ “I am something of a rarity.” _

_ “Oh.” he looks up at the ship, considering. “Captains jump first.” _

_ “Usually, I imagine that would be the case.” says Agatha. “But my first mate, who is like me, and I are not susceptible to glamours or magic, given we are dead.” _

_ “Dead.” he repeats, turning to float on his back. “We are truce, then?” _

_ Agatha, who has started to swim back to the rocks, turns. _

_ “You mean we are at a truce?” _

_ “My blood is bad. I cannot kill. Same.” _

_ Agatha takes it to mean that since they can’t prey on one another, they should just call a truce. She supposes that is fair enough. _

_ He disappears under the water for a second, then pops up beside her. _

_ “I want to swim.” _

_ He pats the hull of the ship. _

_ Agatha takes a minute to understand what he means. _

_ “You think that since we are at a truce, you want to swim with my ship?” _

_ He smiles, pleased that she has understood. _

_ “I like the boats. But they have…” he pauses thoughtfully. “...word is not here. Wait.” _

_ He disappears back under the water.  _

_ Agatha looks back up at Callis, who is hanging over the side, bewildered, and makes a  _ **_wait_ ** _ sign. _

_ In a few minutes, the siren reappears, brandishing something woven out of seaweed-- _

_ “Oh, nets.” says Agatha. “You have been following fishing boats. Did you get caught in a net?” _

_ He turns and points to a white scar across his back. _

_ “They take friends.” _

_ Agatha grimaces. It had not occurred to her that sirens would be friendly with other sea creatures.  _

_ “We do not fish, or use nets.” she says as he turns back around. “However, we do get into fights, and I do not think you would like cannonballs.” _

_ He makes an odd sound which Agatha realises is a genuine laugh, not his mimicry of a human one. _

_ “Slow metal balls. I am fast. I can sing enemies from ships.” _

**_This_ ** _ , Agatha thinks,  _ **_is a good idea._ ** _ By giving him this small thing, she could be practically invincible...  _

_ “What is in it for you?” she asks warily. _

_ “Fun? Bored, here. People know.” _

_ “They know to avoid this bay?” _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “How do I know you won’t try and kill my sailors?” _

_ He shrugs. _

_ “Find others to kill.” _

_ Agatha eyes him. _

_ “...Alright. But if you do try it, I will bite you again. I do not care how disgusting your blood is. And I  _ **_will_ ** _ catch you.” _

_ He looks reproachful and puts a hand over the cuts on his neck, but he nods.  _

_ “Well, then.” Agatha stands and wrings her shirt out. “We are leaving tomorrow morning. I shall explain the situation to the crew…” she frowns. “We do not know each other’s names. I am Agatha.”  _

_ He repeats it quietly, looking at her carefully, but doesn’t return it with anything. _

_ “...do you  _ **_have_ ** _ a name?” Agatha prompts. He tilts his head. _

_ “I am Undersea’s Lord.” _

_ “You-- you are high-ranking?” _

_ He offers her another toothy grin.  _

_ “Human say King. Emperor. Sultan.” _

_ “You-- you are  _ **_King_ ** _ of the sirens?” _

_ “I am eternal and I am ancient.” He flicks the end of his tail from the water and a gold scale winks at Agatha. “I am first.” _

_ Agatha suddenly wonders if biting him was a very bad idea, but he doesn’t look like he is contemplating imprisoning her below the sea for all eternity. _

_ “...ah. You may get on well with Callis.” she points up at her mentor, who is watching them warily. “She is one of the first vampires.” _

_ He smiles. _

_Later, she realises that he does_ _have a name, but he does not know how to pronounce it in mortal tongues. He does a poor job of writing it, wiggly and messy, in the sand, and Agatha and Callis try everything they can think of before finally landing on_ ** _Tedros,_** _which he seems to deem close enough, and starts answering to it. And even after Callis leaves her to return to Thailand, where she grew up, Tedros remains with Agatha._

* * *

But now, Agatha’s eyes shoot down to the tail--

Sure enough, a gold scale is winking at her from the very end. And there is a nick on his left fin. And a white scar on his back. And--

Agatha can barely think. A familiar feeling is crawling up her spine, and suddenly she can hear every heartbeat around her. Her fangs are digging into her lower lip. 

“If anyone would like to try and get him to react, that would be great, we’re trying to get him used to visitors…”

The group surges forwards, carrying a stupified Agatha with them.

She stares unseeingly as they rap on the glass and press their faces to the surface, their reflections warped and grotesque, and he huddles a little further into his corner--

But at the back, Agatha is frozen.

She does not want to believe it is him.

“Tedros.” she whispers. 

The head turns. The kids around her squeal and shriek excitedly, pointing at the metres of powerful tail and his clawed hands as he unfurls-- six feet, eight, ten-- until all of his powerful tail is exposed. He has grown again, and must easily be pushing fifteen feet, all told, now.

Then he looks up.

It  _ is _ him.

It is. 

She can hear the guide chattering in the background-- “Well, this is impressive! We’ve never seen him respond so well to  _ anyone  _ before, what did you kids do?”-- but she is not listening. There are exclamations from around her as well;

“He’s so _ pretty!” _

“Look at his face, oh my god--”

“ _ Wow… _ ”

But Agatha knows that they are not seeing the same thing as she is. She has learned that, by now.

He presses his hands to the glass and looks around-- there is none of his usual playful carelessness in his expression-- instead, the pinched, frightened look of someone who does not understand what is happening to him.

Agatha can hardly bear to look at him. But she can tell he is looking at her. 

Instead, her gaze falls, and snags on the shackles around his wrists. There is another on his waist, a short chain. She can see where it has rubbed the skin raw.

Clearly, they know it’s far better when he can’t surface. 

_ We found him in the harbour, two months ago. _

_ Agatha  _ had gone to find Sophie two months ago. And Sophie had said she would try and get her back in contact with old friends. Agatha had scoffed at the time, and been certain Sophie would not bother. 

But if she  _ had _ , that meant…

That meant he had been looking for her. 

Her head snaps up. 

Tedros is staring at her, ignoring the clamouring crowd around him. 

He is shaking. 

Slowly, Agatha leans over everyone else and presses her hands to the glass, mirroring where he has put his. 

“I wouldn’t try that.” warns the attendant. “He’s very skittish, we’ve done that before and he’s recoiled immediately. It seems he thinks it’s a threat.”

Agatha ignores her. She knows Tedros will understand. It is, in a sense, a threat, but not to him. 

To him, it is a promise.

She will be back.

* * *

Sometimes, when she is particularly overwhelmed, the vampire part of her takes charge. 

Now is no exception.

The second she is out of the doors-- swept along by the crowd, speechless and frozen with horror-- she turns away and stumbles into a back alley, hand clamped so hard over her mouth that she will probably leave a mark. She crouches, panting and snarling, in the corner, flexing and unflexing her free hand, battling with herself. She wants nothing more than to turn back and kill them all, burst back in and slaughter every single person who had anything to do with it, but it is incredibly unfair and incredibly unwise. 

She takes several shaky breaths, mind racing--

Then she is sprinting, taking back streets and weaving through stumbling over cobblestones, scaling the hill back to her house, not bothering with paths or roads or, really, anything. 

She vaults the old wall and bursts through the door, staggering to a stop in the dusty corridor. 

She stands there for a second, staring unseeingly at the wall. She needs to get him out. Somehow. She can wait until it shuts, then she will go and smash the tank, and--

No, no. She will get caught immediately, and then she knows that she will have to fight, and that is wasteful and inconvenient. And if she leaves Tedros completely out of water for too long, he will get unwell. She  _ could  _ carry him to the harbour-- she is strong enough, given she is a vampire-- but he is wriggly and whiny and will complain that his tail is trailing. 

And the presence of so many people after so long without hunting might be too much for him.

She needs help.

Agatha runs her tongue along her teeth, thinking desperately. She needs someone who knows the modern world better than her, and she knows Sophie does not, nor would she be any help. She does not like running, or being stealthy, or dealing with humans beyond luring them into revels. 

She needs someone like…

Like the people at the café. The witches and the demon who want proof. They said they were helping people integrate into the modern world. Agatha would join their foolish programme in return for their help. And they have been so rude to her, surely they can repay her.

And if they do not want to…

Well, Agatha has always been curious to see who would win in a fight between a vampire and a demon.

* * *

Two hours later, Agatha tips out her bag, and Hester, Dot, and Anadil stare as a Browning 1922 pistol, a seventeenth century flintlock, and a pile of jewellery and letters tumble onto the counter.

“Is this proof enough for you?” snarls Agatha. “I am not  _ trying  _ to lure you out and kill you! Demon blood is disgusting, and I can  _ see  _ you two are wearing vampire wards! I want your  _ help! _ ”

The three women look at one another.

Dot looks sheepishly down at the sigil on her forearm. 

Hester scowls. 

“You want us to help you break a mermaid--”

“He is a siren.” snaps Agatha.

“--sorry, a  _ siren  _ out of the aquarium because…?”

“He is my... friend.” says Agatha. 

“Surely your  _ friend  _ is just going to immediately start killing sailors again?”

“I feel that is rich coming from someone who sets places on fire and reaps souls for fun.” says Agatha coldly.

Hester’s eyebrows lift.

Anadil snorts. Dot hits her to get her to be quiet.

“How do you know that I--”

Agatha cuts Hester off. 

“I have seen you chasing people around near my house many times. But this is not the  _ point.  _ The point is that you offered me help and I am taking you up on your offer.”

“Um.” Dot interjects. “We kind of meant like, with phones, or food, not like… a heist…”

She trails off as Agatha fixes her with a piercing stare.

“I,” she says. “Will allow you to steal things from the gift shop.”

* * *

“Look, I’m  _ all  _ for this, but isn’t he just going to try and kill us?” demands Dot, rushing along the streets in Agatha’s wake. Hester trails behind, kicking stones and scowling, but she had not been able to refuse after Dot and Anadil had decided they were in, and Anadil had left them to go and get the cafe’s van and bring it to the main road. 

“Not if I tell him not to.” says Agatha. 

“He… listens to you?”

“Mostly, unless he is caught up in a particularly intense hunting instinct.”

Dot blinks.

“Um… will he be in one when we get him out?”

“I have no idea.” says Agatha, even though the answer is  _ most probably. _ “But I will do my utmost to stop you from getting your heart ripped out of your chest.”

“...thanks.”

“You are most welcome.”

“You  _ have  _ to come to our meetings after this.” says Dot. Agatha smiles at the short witch.

“Fear not, after this I shall learn all about the clever telephones.”

Dot squints.

“Ah, that’s not what they’re called--”

Hester barges her way in-between them.

“What’s the plan, then?”

Agatha frowns.

“Well, I was just planning on picking the locks and walking in.”

Hester sighs impatiently.

“Agatha, they have all sorts of technology nowadays. Heat signature tracking, fingerprints, cameras--”

“I do not have any body heat and I do not appear in photographs.”

Hester pauses.

“Oh. That’s helpful. I kind of thought that was a myth.”

“The garlic, the crucifixes and transforming into bats are the only myths that have no truth to them. Now, I was thinking that you can come in with me, to help me remove the top of the tank, and also to stop any workers from interfering. Dot will wait on the road and prepare to stop any pursuers we may have.”

Hester looks at Dot.

“...how are you planning on doing that?”

Dot looks at Agatha, bewildered.

“Um. I don’t know. I have some barrier spells, but--”

“That sounds most effective, thank you.” says Agatha briskly.

Hester and Dot exchange dubious glances.

* * *

“How are you intending on carrying  _ him?”  _ Hester snarls twenty minutes later. They had gotten in easily enough-- no one had been in the shop, and Dot had thrown a handful of some charm at the burglar alarm, which had interfered with the gears or… something. Agatha was not going to attempt to understand it. She seemed satisfied with the result, and has now set about choosing novelty mugs, so Agatha assumes it has worked.

“I may need you to help me.” says Agatha, marching towards the tank. Tedros is curled up under his tail, squished in the very corner with his eyes shut, but she doubts he is asleep. He rarely sleeps.

She leans over and puts her hands on the glass again. 

“Tedros,” she says. Under his forearm, Tedros’s eyes snap open, pupils dilating immediately, but he does not actually move. “I know you can hear me, my love. We are getting you out.”

He doesn’t budge. 

Agatha sighs and turns back to Hester.

“He is sulking, but he will listen-- what?”

_ “Friends?”  _ says Hester sceptically. 

“That is not of importance, right now.” snaps Agatha as Tedros starts to unfurl, eyeing Hester curiously. “I need to get into the tank so that I can break his chains. How do we do that?”

She expects Hester to roll her eyes or make some irritated comment, but she does not. She looks carefully around the room, pointedly ignoring Tedros, who has come to the glass to stare at her, and eventually points a clawed finger to a door marked  _ staff only. _

“That’ll lead to the tanks. Come on.”

They hurry across the room and find it locked. Agatha scowls and starts digging in her pockets for a hairpin or paperclip, but Hester just snorts and snaps the lock off completely, shattering the whole mechanism.

“Humans only build locks to withstand other humans. I’ve broken into  _ so  _ many buildings like this. Idiots.” 

She kicks the door open and she and Agatha make for the back of Tedros’s tank-- there are metal steps leading to the top, presumably for divers to get in and clean the tank or feed the animals. Not that Agatha thinks anyone is going to have tried that with Tedros. He might be chained up, but people would still be within biting distance if he made an effort.

Tedros tracks them the whole way, swimming alongside them best he can-- he’s on a long enough chain to mean that he can reach the sides of the enclosure, but he can’t get any higher than about halfway. 

They reach the top and Agatha squints doubtfully at the sealed hatch.

“Is it remote-controlled?” says Hester. Agatha looks blankly at her and she sighs. “Nevermind.”

She leans down, gets her fingers underneath it, and rips it off. 

Immediately, alarms start screeching, and Agatha jumps back, startled. Hester groans. 

“ _ Great _ . Get him out, quick, people’ll be arriving soon, and I don’t think you’ll approve if I kill them, will you?”

“... ah, no.” Agatha shakes herself and peers down into the water. “Well, as long as you can pull me out, I can free him.”

“Course I can.” scoffs Hester. “You brought boltcutters or something?”

“I do not need any.” says Agatha. “You are not the only one with supernatural strength. Being dead means that human constraints do not apply to me.”

She leaps into the tank.

* * *

Immediately, Tedros is as close to her as he can get, yanking desperately at his chains. Agatha can hear him chattering at her, now, shoving his hands frantically towards her-- he is clearly not in the right mindset to attempt English. 

“You must calm down.” says Agatha, but he hardly listens. Agatha sighs. He will be no help if he is this frantic. She catches his wrist shackles first, gets hold of the left one, and squeezes it as hard as she can. Supernatural strength comes with the territory, but it tends to only manifest when she’s desperate-- similar to adrenaline in living humans. 

It buckles, gives way and snaps in half, drifting to the bottom of the tank. Tedros makes a shrieking sound that Agatha knows is joy, and eagerly offers his right arm, catching her waist with his left to keep her on the same level as him. Agatha repeats the process--

She yelps as Tedros yanks them violently down to the level of the chain around his waist.

“Can you not be calm for a  _ second? _ ” she barks. He looks at her, unimpressed, and starts straining against it again. Agatha sighs and reaches for it. It takes her a second longer to snap this one-- it is thicker and better made, and Tedros is wriggling impatiently, flexing his hands and making a low snarling sound in his throat. He is clearly preparing to sing, and Agatha is not sure she can stop him. He is quite literally in his element, and if anyone arrives now, they will not survive him. 

But still--

She snaps the last chain, and only just manages to grab his caudal fin before he surfaces.

He looks down at her, irritated, and snarls.

“If any humans arrive, you must leave them alone.” demands Agatha. “It will waste time. You will be out of water for too long. You do not like that. It makes you sick.”

Tedros bares his teeth, trying to shove her hand away. Agatha yanks on his fin, trying to get him to listen properly. 

“I will find you prey once we have escaped this place. You must let us get you out, now.”

Miraculously, he seems to listen, because he stops trying to slap her hands off his fin and frowns, which is clearly a sulky agreement. 

“Good.” says Agatha. “Come, then.”

* * *

Hester pulls her out first, and together they yank Tedros out of the water. Immediately, he looks unimpressed to be on dry land, flicking his tail and hissing, but he seems slightly mollified when Agatha slings the extra length of his tail over her shoulder and picks him up. Apparently the reality of the situation is starting to set in, because he looks over her shoulder at his empty tank and smiles grimly.

“Hester, if he starts fidgeting, I shall need your help.” says Agatha, starting down the stairs. “He is hard to hold when he is moving.” she looks down at Tedros. “But you will  _ not _ move,  _ will you?” _

Tedros ignores her, putting his chin on her shoulder and peering with interest at Hester. Agatha thinks he probably will not. He tends to only wriggle when he is bored or wants to get down.

“Tell your fish boyfriend to stop staring.” grumbles Hester as they emerge back into the viewing area. “It’s creepy.” 

“He has never met a demon before.” says Agatha, watching Tedros copy a human gesture at his old tank as they pass it. “He is probably trying to ascertain whether you would be good prey or not.”

“I wouldn’t.” snaps Hester. “And he better not get any ideas, because I don’t think he’d like fire, much.”

Tedros looks reproachfully at Agatha. Agatha sighs. He has had run-ins with fire before, and it has never ended well. Grabbing campfires has always ended with a lot of furious hissing. 

“He does not. Come, we are wasting time.”

They head back into the gift shop and immediately, Dot is rushing towards them--

“What did you  _ do-- _ ooh. He’s scarier than I expected. I thought sirens were supposed to be pretty.”

“I am sure he shall be more than happy to put his glamour up for you, later.” mutters Agatha, shouldering through the door, and pinching Tedros the second he opens his mouth. “I am  _ joking,  _ Tedros. You may not kill her.” 

Tedros sighs, starting to shift impatiently. Agatha gets out onto the street and prepares for a very irritating walk to where Anadil is waiting with the van.

* * *

Except it ends up being a sprint. 

“ _ Why didn’t you keep a lookout!”  _ Hester howls at Dot as they sprint down a back alley, three shouting scientists tearing after them.

“I DID!” bellows back Dot. “I USED MY THREE BARRIER SPELLS BUT THEY WERE IN THE CAFETERIA-- AGATHA SLOW DOWN--”

Agatha slows very slightly, but she does not know why she should.  _ She  _ is the one carrying Tedros, and both Hester and Dot are perfectly capable of fighting off a few scientists.

She looks down at Tedros, and is not at all surprised to see him looking as if he’s rather enjoying himself, watching the scientists run after them. Agatha can hear him chattering gleefully to himself. 

“GET TO THE BOTTOM ROAD!” Dot shouts. “ANADIL IS GONNA MEET US THERE--”

Agatha takes that as an invitation to speed up.

“JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN RUN FASTER THAN US DOESN’T MEAN YOU SHOULD!” Dot shouts. Agatha ignores her, careening down a side street, and bouncing off a wall as she does so. Tedros hisses as she scrapes his tail against the brickwork.

“Sorry,” mutters Agatha, “But--”

She runs smack into a fence.

Hissing herself, now, she recoils and glares up at the metal latticework. She  _ can  _ vault it, but not whilst holding Tedros, and there’s a padlock on the gate. 

Cursing, she turns to find Hester and Dot skidding to a stop behind her, and their pursuers standing at the mouth of the alley. 

Agatha casts around for a way out, but there is nothing she can see, just some old abandoned buildings and a teetering pile of beer bottles near the end. 

“BRING THE MERMAID BACK!” shouts the leading man. “WE KNOW YOU’RE FROM OCEAN WORLD, THERE’S NO WAY YOU’RE TAKING HIM TO YOUR HORRIBLE CORPORATE CHAIN AQUARIUM!”

“ _ Mermaid _ .” sneers Tedros. 

“Now is not the time for inter-species discourse.” says Agatha. Then she frowns. “What is Ocean World?”

“They think we’re from a rival aquarium.” snorts Dot.

The three researchers start to advance.

“He’s property of our researchers!” calls one. “We’re keeping him safe!”

“We won’t press charges if you hand him over!”

“He’s part of groundbreaking research!”

Agatha looks at Hester and Dot.

“Options which are not  _ kill them-- _ ? Tedros, what are you doing?”

For Tedros has reached up and put his sharp hands over her ears, making a low snarling sound in his throat.

Agatha stares at him for a second, sure she has heard this before--

Then she realises.

“Block your ears and crouch down behind me.” she says, whirling to Dot and Hester. “ _ Now.” _

Dot complies immediately, Hester slightly slower.

“Is he going to sing?” asks Dot apprehensively.

“No.” says Agatha. “He is going to scream.”

She has witnessed Tedros do this once before, but it doesn’t make it any more shocking. 

One second, it is quiet-- 

And the next, he has unleashed a furious wail so grating that Agatha recoils.

The old windows and the bottles shatter, and the men go down like skittles, shouting in shock and trying to avoid the spray of glass. One of them is bleeding from the ear, another from the nose, and the last is staggering around, clutching his head--

On her third try, Hester snaps the lock off on the gate and barges it open.

“Come on!” she points at Tedros. “Shut up!”

Tedros shuts his mouth, but he looks very pleased with himself. Agatha decides she will deal with that later, and runs after the other two, the men shouting behind them. They sprint down the hill, burst out onto the main road--

A van screeches to a stop in front of them, and Hester flings the back doors open. Agatha stops-- she has yet to be in a modern car.

“No time for gawking!” Hester snatches Tedros off her, ignoring his affronted wail, and bodily throws him in the back, before grabbing Agatha and shoving her in, too. She jumps in herself and slams the doors. Dot clambers in the front with Anadil, and Tedros makes offended noises from the floor, frowning up at her.

“ _ I  _ did not tell her to throw you.” says Agatha--

Then they all slam against each other, tumbling into the back corner as Anadil hits the accelerator and the van screeches away.

Shoving Tedros’s too-sharp pelvic fin away from her neck, Agatha sits up and spits her hair out. She is having flashbacks to her own driving in the 1920s, and it is not fun.

Tedros is lying on the floor, looking utterly bewildered and rather frightened. 

“I suppose you have never been in a car before.” says Agatha.

“One.” Tedros mumbles, rubbing his arms. 

“...oh. When they took you to the aquarium?”

His silence indicates that she’s right. Agatha watches him scratch at his scaled arms miserably for a minute, keenly aware that he’s already been out of water for too long--

Hester taps her arm and leans over, holding a plastic bottle of water.

“Chuck that on him. This van needs a new carpet anyway.”

Surprised, Agatha takes it off her with mumbled thanks and unscrews the lid, unceremoniously sloshing it over Tedros’s back. Tedros makes a slightly relieved sound, but Agatha knows he probably needs salt water, more. 

* * *

They go to the beach, not the harbour, in the end. Apparently it is more out of sight.

Agatha and Anadil roll up their trousers and carry Tedros into the surf. He is disturbingly unenthusiastic, and does not even try to hurl himself into the water like usual. Agatha suspects he is more shaken by his brief imprisonment than he seems, and it doesn’t help that he has been out of water for nearly an hour now. 

It’s mercifully warm, so they wade out until it’s almost waist deep, then lower a wriggly, bad-tempered Tedros into the water.

He stays there for a second, sculling and trying to get his bearings--

Then his tail snaps back, thrashing, and by the time they have gotten all of the salt water out of their eyes, he is gone. 

Anadil blinks.

“I... thought he’d take longer than that.”

“He never does.” Says Agatha. He always seems to be possessed by his most basic instincts when he returns to water. “He will return in a few days, one he has been hunting.”

“So we can expect a fishing boat to mysteriously go missing tonight?” muses Anadil.

“He likes yachts more.” sighs Agatha. “He thinks it is funny to make the rich people jump.”

Anadil raises her eyebrows, which seems to be the closest she gets to laughing. She looks over her shoulder at Hester and Dot standing on the shore. Hester is avoiding the waves, and Dot is tracing something in the sand with a stick.

“How did you possibly attain Hester?” asks Agatha, turning to wade back to shore. Anadil looks warily at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I have never seen a demon keeping company with humans in such a way before. Do you have a contract?”

“Oh.” Anadil frowns. “Dot and I were slightly tipsy one night, and thought it would be funny to summon a demon. Turns out we used a permanent spell and now she’s stuck with us.”

Agatha frowns.

“Was she angry?”

Anadil considers this, wringing her shirt out as the water drops to thigh-depth.

“A little, but I think it was mostly an act. She was very interested in the human world, so she didn’t mind much.” she pauses. “I’m sorry we didn’t believe you, by the way. The first time we met you. You’re surprisingly sharp-minded for someone so old.”

“I suppose it does sound very improbable.” muses Agatha. “But everything I told you was true. Even the pirate things.”

“Is that how you know Tedros?”

“It is-- what are you doing?”

For Anadil has stopped and is rubbing at something on her arm.

“I’m getting rid of my vampire ward.” she says.

“But it is night time.” says Agatha, confused. “I hunt at night. You have every right to be suspicious.”

“But I’m not suspicious.” says Anadil, wiping her inky hand on her trousers. “You said you weren’t going to harm us, and I believe you.”

“...I see.”

They make the rest of the journey back in silence, but it is less awkward than Agatha had thought. More companionable. 

Dot comes splashing out to meet them.

“Took you long enough. Agatha, look at this!”

She grabs her and yanks her over to where she’s been tracing in the sand. There are five wobbly figures-- three with aprons, (one of which has horns,) one with a hat and fangs, and one with a tail.

“It is… us.”

“You got it a lot faster than Hester.” grumbles Dot, but brightens almost immediately. “It means we’re a team now! We’re gonna teach you all about the modern world, and Tedros can bring us fish--”

“He will not bring you fish, he gets upset when he sees humans eating them.” dismisses Agatha. “However, he may bring you pearls.”

Dot’s eyes bug.

“ _ Ooh,  _ will he?”

Agatha eyes her.

“More specifically, he will bring  _ me  _ pearls, and I will give you some because I have many. He thinks that is how human courtship rituals work, the giving of shiny things, because he has seen many beach proposals.” She starts following Hester and Anadil back up the beach. “Well, where do we start?”

“Hm?” Dot finishes kicking sand over the drawing and rushes after her. “Oh, with what?”

“Learning about the modern world. What is it that I need to know?”

“Oh. Um, well, it’s…gonna take a while.”

“How long? Hours?”

“Um… weeks?”

Agatha turns to stare at her.

“ _ What?” _

“Agatha,  _ everything  _ has changed! You’ve seen the cars and the screens, that’s just the tip of the iceberg! There’s phones, computers, televisions, music, food, slang-- where are you going? Agatha, you can’t go home! You can’t hide from it forever! Agatha!  _ Agatha!  _ HESTER, GRAB HER--”

* * *

While it seems that most things have changed, at least the beach has not.

Agatha has come out every night, climbed across the rocks and sat there for hours each night. She knows that Tedros will come back eventually, and he will be disappointed if he comes back and she is not there, and it is not as if he can come onto land and look for her. 

But she also thinks it’s not fair to expect him to return so soon, given what happened last time he was in these waters.

But she is patient. She has all the time in the world, after all. 

But Tedros is  _ not  _ patient in the slightest. He has an incredibly short attention span. It won’t be long before he’s back, and tonight feels ideal-- the water is choppy enough to cover any waves he makes, but also warm enough to mean she will not try to bite him for pulling her into cold water.

So, she is not particularly surprised when she is grabbed from behind and yanked into the sea.

Suddenly under the dark waves, she rolls her eyes and waits for her night vision to kick in. This is Tedros’s idea of flirting, and he thinks he is awfully clever for it. From what she has gathered of Undersea customs, they spend a lot of time play-fighting, so he loves trying to sneak up on her. It never works. She can hear him coming, because he sings to himself as he swims, and she had heard him at least ten minutes ago.

When she finally gets her bearings, Tedros is leaning over her, eyes big and faintly luminescent. 

“I did not say thank you.” he chatters, mingling English and his own language, which Agatha has come to understand somewhat over the years. 

“Could you have not said it on land?” asks Agatha, trying her best to seem irritated, but aware that it is not really working. She is wasting the air she has for talking by keeping the facade, but Tedros doesn’t seem to believe it anyway-- he just smiles, pulling her upright.

“Why should I? I do not like the land.”

“Your English is better, now.” Agatha comments, trying to avoid his intense gaze.

“I copy the humans.” sniffs Tedros. “They call me a mermaid. I bite them. I fight two before they make me quiet.”

Naturally.

Agatha is tempted to ask more, but she does not think she will get a very coherent answer-- or an answer at all. He is in a very playful mood, and she does not want to ruin it. 

She looks suspiciously at him. He blinks expectantly at her. 

“You want something.” she says. 

“I bring a present.”

“Pearls?”

“No-oo. Better.” 

Agatha waits--

Tedros gets bored and kisses her.

Agatha laughs against his mouth. He is very predictable, but sweet. She has missed this. She has missed  _ him.  _

She digs her hand into his hair and listens to him making pleased little noises in the back of his throat, like a cat. He has done this innumerable times, in innumerable places-- the Bay of Biscay, the Pacific, that horrible lake in Wales-- but, like them, it never gets old. 

Hah. Perhaps Tedros is not the only one who thinks he is ever so clever.

But it does not matter. They will do it over and over again, forever and ever. 

Because forever is exactly what they have.  __

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to my big bang group for the help and support! (@ravkandurast, @caramel_artz, @flahsedah, @baetrixv @cloudy.blue.sketches -- go and check them all out on instagram! and aimee for proofreading for me like she pretty much always does lmao)  
> hope you liked it! this is realllyyyyy pushing the word limit, when i finished it I think it was like 40 words off the absolute limit of 10.3k lol. some of you might remember the unfinished fic eternal/immortal that I posted a while back-- this is basically the polished version of that!


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